it's fun said she
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Maybe he should have just turned his phone off, after all. For cartographical, stuck in a boring meeting today.


For cartographical. She is stuck in a meeting today. I decided to be nice and make her fic with, well, no real plot.

* * *

He almost falls out of the taxi in his effort to exit, tossing a generous tip at the bemused driver and all but bolting past the curb and into her building. The elevator is too slow so he takes the stairs two at a time, gritting his teeth. Evil woman. _Evil_.

He fumbles the key for an agonizing amount of time (it takes whole precious _seconds_) before he gets the door open, stumbles in, slams it shut behind him. "Kate? Kate, where are you?"

"Where do you think?"

Bedroom. Of course. There's an infuriating grin in her voice. She's smiling. _Damn_ it, Kate –

"You are a horrible woman. Horrible."

He storms into the room and chokes. Almost falls over. Holy _shit_.

Kate's lying in bed, looking up at him with that coy, knowing smile, her eyes dark and heavy and mesmerizing. Wearing a tiny, silky, lacy little black thing he's never seen on her before, a skimpy little thing that just barely covers –

"I hate you so _much_ right now," he growls, throwing his jacket on the floor, kicking off his shoes.

Kate blinks lazily at him, her lips twisted in that way she does when she knows she's got him. "So. How was your meeting?"

He glares at her, but her eyes are sparkling as she stretches (_God,_ her body is incredible) before slipping off the bed, coming to stand in front of him, starting on the buttons of his shirt.

"You dirty, filthy woman."

"I just wanted to talk to you."

"The _sexting_? Kate, I was stuck there for two _hours!_ You can't just send me pictures of your underwear on the floor – "

She peels his shirt off his shoulders, runs her fingers slowly over his chest. He shudders. "Just wanted you to know I have to do laundry."

"And the handcuffs and whipped cream? I had to sit there thinking about that for an _hour_." Gritting his teeth. Clenching his fists. Thinking of disgusting things to combat his body's immediate response to the thought of that lacy bra, the one she _knows_ he likes. The one he took off her last night. With his teeth. Slowly. And the whipped cream, that time she was so loud he'd had to put his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.

"It was just a picture," she shrugs, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"The things you texted – "

He'd never realized how into dirty talk she was. Until his phone had buzzed and he'd looked down to see the message that told him, in detail, exactly what she was going to do to him when he got to her place. He choked when he read it, and Paula had given him a weird look but not said anything about his red face.

"I was thinking about you," she whispers, her tongue flicking out to trace the line of his throat. He groans, his hands fisting tightly in the silky fabric of her nightgown.

"I could tell," he grumbles, but he can't bring himself to sound unhappy. Not when she's unbuckling his belt, slipping it out of the belt loops. Reaching for his zipper. Her hand slides down the front of his jeans and _oh Kate just like that_ –

She has him undressed in seconds and pushes him down onto the bed, and then she's crawling on top of him, sitting astride his hips, and he lets out a low noise as she leans over to kiss him, slow, deliberate, her tongue sliding through his mouth almost lazily. His hands run over her thighs, thumbs pressing into her soft, smooth skin, slide up over her hipbones, the line of her back. She hums into his mouth, runs her fingers through his hair, and oh, this is what he's been wanting.

(He's been waiting for this since he sat down in the conference room and his phone buzzed with the message _You want to know what I'm going to do to you after this meeting?_)

"You can sit in all those boring meetings, but you need to remember – " she slowly rolls her hips down onto his and all the air leaves his lungs and all the blood leaves his brain – "you're _mine_ – " she pins his arms above his head and leans in to whisper in his ear, and he swallows hard as her body presses against him, her soft curves warm and tantalizing – "and I'm the _only_ one you get to think about – "

There's a sharp metallic _click_ and then suddenly his hands are cuffed to her headboard.

He blinks, looks up. Kate leans back, bites her lip, and slowly pulls the negligee over her head, letting it slip to the floor. She runs her hands slowly down his chest, tracing the lines of his abs, making the muscles twitch, and he's uncomfortably aroused already.

- and oh, fuck, this is going to be _torture_.

She's patient when she wants to be.

"This is for what you did to me last night, Castle."

He remembers last night. Vividly. Especially the part where he cuffed her to this same headboard. Blindfolded her. Kissed every ticklish spot he could find. Slipped his hand between her legs and made her moan, till her heels dug helplessly into the mattress. And he waited until she begged, until she managed to gasp out a vaguely coherent _oh please Castle_, before finally –

He lets out a soft groan as she starts kissing her way down his chest, her slender fingers trailing hotly over his skin. "Oh, you are going to _kill_ me, Kate – "

Her eyes flick up to his, dark and devilish and full of mirth.

"Don't worry, Castle. I'll make it good for you."

And then her mouth is doing other things and his eyes roll back and he's groaning her name -

- and it's good.

It's so good.


End file.
